The Seduction of Walter Dornez

by lunartick

OC. Young Walter. Where Alucard discovers the disadvantages of wearing a skirt, Walter pines for true love, and Sir Hellsing is absolutely smashed. Parody of Romance... of sorts.

1. Chapter 1

Hey guys and girls! This is my first Hellsing fanfic, so I would just like to clarify some points.

Firstly, this fic is not a serious fic. It's meant to be funny and whacky, and thus the characters might potentially act in ways or do things that seem rather OC. I know some people don't like that, but since this OC-ness is for comic purposes, I hope people wouldn't take too much offense to this.

Secondly, I have taken much liberty with regards to the English society portrayed in this fic. For example, I am totally unsure if girls were allowed in public schools with boys in the 1940s, but for dramatic purposes, I have allowed for it in my fic. Also, the characters might have knowledge that was only "discovered" in later decades, or use slang that is more common to the 21st century. Given that Hellsing, the original works itself, takes a certain amount liberty with the portrayal of the history and society of England in the 1940s, I decided that for poetic/dramatic/comic purposes, I shall take certain liberties with the history and society of England in the 1940s. No offense is meant to readers who wish for more "authenticity" in the portrayal of England.

Thirdly, the characters within this fic might express certain "racist" or bias opinions to other races, nations or cultures. This does not reflect my personal views, but is instead, meant to reflect the general antagonism which exists between various groups, like the Protestants and the Catholics, in the original Hellsing manga and anime.

I think that mostly covers my "disclaimers" so to speak, and thus the last thing to do is to declare that I do not owe Hellsing in anyway and to hope that readers will be kind and leave a review after reading this fic!

Please enjoy.

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As butler of the Hellsing household, Walter C Dornez was used to happenings of the strangest and most disturbing nature. Ghouls were a common sight, as were vampires. There was an occasional witch, perhaps a woman or two who happened to turn into snakes or crows. Sometimes there were suits of armour that chose to leave their appointed venues of display and wander around. Werewolves were uncommon but hardly non-existent. If nothing else, there was a cross-dressing (cross gendered morphing?) ancient Nosferatu with a tendency to sneak up on you and tickle you to contend with. All most trivial, in the eyes of Butler Walter C Dornez.

What was not trivial however, was walking into the library only to be swept into the enthusiastic and odorous embrace of a sobbing Sir Arthur Hellsing.

"Oh, Walter!"

"What the f… I mean, yes, my Lord oh my goodness when was the last time you bathed?"

"Walter, I have been too cruel to you!"

"Ah… My lord, my arm… ow… my arm! Ow!"

"I cannot believe what I've done to you!"

"Ow! Let me… go!"

With some rather Machiavellian attacking of various sensitive spots on Sir Arthur Hellsing, Walter C Dornez finally escaped the arms that were threatening to crush various fragile bones in his body. With as much dignity as he could, the Butler of Hellsing scooted to a safe distance and adjusted his clothing primly.

"My lord," Walter C Dornez said, offering a polite bow. "May I be of assistance to you?"

"Ah… that's fine…" the great Sir Arthur Hellsing squeaked from somewhere below Walter C Dornez's knees.

"You do look rather under the weather, my lord. A spot of tea perhaps?"

"Brandy, my good lad, would be most welcomed."

"I fear you have been indulging far too much my lord. A good Ceylon would perhaps, be more appropriate."

"My dear lad…"

"Two sugars as per normal, my lord?"

"Walter…"

"And a dash of cream of course."

"Butler!"

"Your tea, my lord."

"… Thanks. If you would… help me…"

"Of course, my lord."

"Ah… yes, yes… that chair if you please… the one with the thick cushions… ah… thank you."

"It was my pleasure, my lord."

Walter C Dornez stepped back and lowered his head politely in a bow. "Now my lord," he said. "May I know what that most indecent display was about?"

Sir Arthur Hellsing took a tentative sip of the tea. "Ah, Walter!" he cried, and tears sprang to his bloodshot eyes. "I have been so cruel to you!"

"Whatever do you mean, my lord?"

"Look at you!" A finger was gestured despairingly in Walter C Dornez's general direction.

"My lord?" Walter C Dornez risked a surreptitious glance at his tie just it case it had come loose.

"I mean, look at you!" The finger was gestured in Walter C Dornez's direction again.

"Ah… my lord. I would advice you not get up. I fear your over-indulgence of the spirits have left you…"

"Jesus Christ, just listen to you!"

"My lord!" Walter C Dornez cried, appalled. "That was most blasphemous!"

"Just listen to you!" Sir Arthur Hellsing wailed, attempting to get up, but failing and sinking back into the chair. "You are all of fourteen and you speak like an old geezer! I can just imagine you as some old butler, with a ponytail and wrinkles all over your face!"

"My lord! That is most preposterous…"

"And you know what?"

"Oh dear…" Walter C Dornez muttered. "What, my lord?"

"It's all my fault."

Sir Arthur Hellsing rose to his full height, his bloodshot eyes wobbling with tears. "It's all my fault, my dear lad," he whispered, as his chin joined his eyes in wobbling. He took a tentative step forward, and his legs decided to join the general wobbling that was going on.

"Sir…" Walter C Dornez took one look at his master's inebriated state and hid a grimace. "If I may remind you, I chose to become a Hellsing assassin of my own will…"

"Oh I know that," Sir Arthur Hellsing said, waving a dismissive hand. "It's probably good that you got that job anyway. Gives you a place to vent all your teenage rage, I suppose. All those hormones, really now, I could tell you tales of how I vented my teenage rage… But you could guess and oh well, all this killing and slaying and renting is good experience of course. I expect it'll get you a good job in the military if you leave Hellsing one day. I most certainly was not referring to that anyhow."

"Oh… well then…"

"I meant you don't have friends of your age!" Sir Arthur Hellsing flopped down on his chair again, internally cursing his knees, which appeared to have rebelled against him. "You have no one to sneak cigarettes with… no one to talk about girls with… hell, no one to play cricket with! No one to learn how to be… be a teenager from! What tragedy!"

"Oh… well, my lord. I do not have the need to sneak cigarettes, and I find it most indecent to talk about girls. Nor do I play cricket…"

"That is not the point, my dear boy!" Sir Arthur Hellsing cried, throwing up his arms despairingly.

"Sir Hellsing?"

"The point is, my lad… The point is… I'm drunk."

"That is a conceivable idea, my lord."

"I am so drunk… so… what's that term? So… smashed. Ah yes, that's the term. I am perfectly smashed, my boy."

"Indeed, sir."

"And in my… my smashedness, if you could call it that…"

"As you wish, sir."

"I have done something which I fear we both shall regret most fully, but I am sure you will forgive me because I am just so smashed!"

"… My lord, if you would be so kind as to enlighten me…?"

"Well, dear lad… well… the thing is… oh bugger it! I know you are going to hate me, but in my drunken state, I am most afraid that I have signed you up in an independent school."

"I beg your pardon?"

"An independent school! A public school!"

"A… public school?"

"Yes, and class starts in half an hour's time."

"…Ah…"

"You do forgive me, boy?"

"I only regret leaving my gloves in my room."

"Such a kind boy. Such a kind, kind boy."

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It was with the greatest sense of trepidation that Walter had approached the building. In the end though, he had nothing to fear. The educational system had, by some strange coincidence matched the education he had received in preparation for his status as Butler of Hellsing. The classics were a breeze (Many classical fictional works were actually true, hence all Hellsing staff members were required to read them. For example, contrary to popular belief, that Frankenstein is the name of the monster is not a misconception. Frankenstein was the name of the monster. The government had edited the story such that Frankenstein became the name of the maker in order to hide the true identity of the maker, who happened to had been a rather prominent public figure.) Math was simple (killing ghouls frequently had led Walter C Dornez to acquire the rather complicated skill of computing numbers accurately on the spot; it was often important to know how many ghouls and vampires had been killed). Modern language and philosophy were easy (frequent conversations with an ancient cross-dressing vampire tended to end up with much philosophizing and wordplay, hence Walter had much practice with both languages and philosophy). Sport was, needless to say, rather simple for a boy who was capable of leaping from a plane while carrying a coffin and landing safely.

In short, by the end of the fourth period, Walter C Dornez found himself being deeply, profoundly bored in the library.

"I am bored," he informed The Illiad. "I am bored to the point that I am speaking to a book. That is a sign of how bored I am. In fact, I wish I had a gun now so I could shoot myself in the head. Ah, I expect that is why Alucard is so fond of getting shot to bits. Living for five hundred years is bound to get boring sooner or later."

The Illiad failed to reply, and Walter C Dornez decided that it was a most impolite book and thus unworthy of his attention. With much firmness, he stuffed the book back into the shelf, hoping that it would understand it was being abandoned because of its rudeness. Hopefully it would learn from this and would be much more polite to the next poor sod that picked it up. Walter C Dornez was always thinking about his fellow men – though not always in such charitable terms.

It was then, as he was busy silently educating The Illiad on the finer points of politeness that he noticed a figure sitting in a corner.

The figure, wrapped snugly in a pink knit sweater that two Walters could have fit into, sat all by herself, nose deep in A Picture of Dorian Gray. It was a rather odd figure, in a shape reminiscent of a Christmas tree, with a sharp conical head, much broader hips and skinny legs. Upon a sharp nose rested rectangular pink glasses that hid a pair of crossed eyes. Freckles dotted round cheeks. Two buck teeth jutted out from thick red lips. Some might shudder to do so, but the figure could most likely be described as female.

The girl (and a girl she was, as some might be distressed to find out) was the kind of girl that attracted the attention of good looking rugby players and beautiful socialites. She was the kind of girl that caused arms to reflexively throw gum, or any other handy object, in her direction. She was the kind of girl that caused legs to shoot out from under their owners' surprised gazes to kick her in the bottom. She was the kind of girl who had fifty hands pulling at her twin braids as she walked down the hallways. One look in her direction caused model students to degenerate into cruel name-calling.

Walter C Dornez took one look at her and fell madly in love.

"Good heavens, my dear Illiad," Walter C Dornez whispered to the trembling book. "I fain believe my eyes! She is the most wondrous creature I have ever gazed upon!"

The Illiad yet again failed to reply and Walter C Dornez decided it was probably beyond all hope of redemption. "Be silent if you will," he huffed. "That lovely creature beyond… I must speak to her! I must or I shall fade away and turn into a wraith!"

With his mind made up, Walter C Dornez swept up the disobliging book and travelled in the direction of the tree-shaped figure.

"Good afternoon, madam!" he cried gallantly, earning the ire of the other occupants of the library. "Isn't today the loveliest day you have ever seen?"

The crossed eyes travelled upwards and struggled to focus upon his face. It did not seem to work too well for a look of dizziness crept over her face and she settled for looking somewhere in the general direction of his bow tie. "Bloody lousy weather," she said defiantly, as if daring him to disagree. "Too much sun. Th'will give me skin cancer."

"Oh, I agree. I burn so in the sun."

"Yeah?"

"Most certainly. That's why I mostly work at night."

The eyes, magnified dramatically by the thick lenses of her glasses wobbled as she squinted up at him. "Hmm. What'cha do?"

"I kill vampires and the ghouls they create."

"Yeah?"

"And, I am a butler in a rich household."

"Cool. That is just plain awesome. Like a real butler? Man, you must have so much fun."

"Most certainly. I do enjoy opening doors for visitors."

"T's cool. I wish I were a real butler. But my mama said girls aint' supposed to be no butler. Wish I were you, man, wish I were you."

"Thank you."

"Killing vamps and ghouls are alright too, I guess."

"That is most gracious of you."

"Just the idea of blood and guts on my shoes. Erk."

"They are indeed, most unpleasant to scrub out."

"You're so funny. Wanna sit?"

"Oh, yes. It is most kind of you."

"Hmpf."

"The Picture of Dorian Gray is a good book."

"Yeah. 'M Margaret Lucy Fairfield."

"Walter C Dornez."

"Yeah. But you can call me Marg."

"That is most kind…"

"And I shall call you Walt C D."

"Most kind."

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Before Sir Arthur Hellsing was a bountiful spread of a banquet. Tomato soup, roast duck, cream potatoes, bread and butter, and champagne. Yet, Sir Arthur Hellsing found himself sorely lacking an appetite. A quick inventory of his body (cold sweat, trembling limbs, increased heart rate) strongly suggested nerves were to be blamed.

"My Master."

Without glancing behind, Sir Arthur Hellsing sank back into his chair and buried his face in his hands. "He is going to kill me," he said wearily. "My own butler is going to turn me into minced meat."

A soft chuckle greeted his words. "Well, you did send him to public school, my master."

"Yeah, yeah, rub it in."

"It is a pity you did not take my advice five years ago. I would have been able to turn you now…"

"Don't start on that, servant. I totally do not regret sleeping with Elena."

"Even though she left you after stealing the silver?"

"Hey! A nice ass is a nice ass."

"Indeed… Ah. I recognize those footsteps."

With a smirk, Alucard faded into a discreet corner as Sir Arthur Hellsing sat up abruptly in his seat with a loud, audible gulp. "Oh go… bugger," he muttered, glancing desperately at his servant before turning back to the door.

With a soft click, the door to the dining room opened and Walter C Dornez swept in.

"Sir Hellsing!" he cried, throwing his hand to his forehead in a gesture of sheer desperation.

"Ah, Walter! Je… I mean, I am so sorry! I swear, I was really, really drunk when I did that. I really am…"

"Oh, my lord!" Walter cried, sitting abruptly in one of the chairs. "Sir Hellsing, I had the most… the most… heavens, I have no words to describe how I feel!"

Arthur Hellsing opened his mouth automatically to tell his butler off for such un-butlerly behaviour then shut it again. "Surely," he said hesitantly. "Surely it was not that bad… I mean, I've been to public school and I made it out quite fine…"

"Bad? Bad?!" Walter cried, slamming his palms down onto the dining table and temporarily reanimating the roast duck. "Heavens, Sir Hellsing, if I do say so, this was the most fabulous day I have ever had!"

"Oh, so you enjoyed…"

"Enjoyed? Sweet heavens above!" Walter whispered, his eyes feverish. "My good Sir Hellsing, my master, Sir Hellsing… I have found the love of my life!"

"… Oh… erh… by that you mean…"

"I have found my love!" Walter cried, sweeping back onto his feet. "Shakespeare's dark lady and golden boy, Yeat's Maud Gonne, Wilde's Dorian Gray, Keat's Fanny! I am in love!"

Sir Arthur Hellsing's chin trembled and he gripped the table top firmly, ignoring the crazed laughter emitting from a certain dark corner. "E… Excuse me, Walter? You are in love?"

"Yes!"

"With a boy?"

"What? No! A girl!"

"Oh. Oh that's good. The Dorian Gray thing kind of threw me…"

"Threw you? How do you think I feel?" Walter's eyes burnt brightly over his flushed cheeks. "My heart beats," he whispered. "It beats so hard. I… I need to do something or it will beat out of my bosom! I should… I should write a love poem, no? A sonnet perhaps? No?"

"Oh… well," Arthur Hellsing cleared his throat. "Erm… Alucard? Alucard! Receive your orders! Stop laughing and… and… well… never mind. Who is this lady?"

"Oh… oh… a lovely creature… such a lovely creature… Margaret Fairfield!"

"Margaret Fairfield? Can't say I've heard of her. So… you proposed to her?"

"Yes!"

"Oh bugger! Do you even know anything about the… the physical workings of… never mind. How did it happen?"

"We spent the whole day together of course. We skipped everything past the fourth period and went for long walks around the compound. I plucked a white flower for her… she sang for me while I played the guitar…"

"Good heavens, lad, I didn't know you knew how to play a guitar!"

"Oh, I didn't. But she didn't know how to sing either, so it worked out most satisfactorily. At any rate, we soon found ourselves alone in a nearby cemetery. She sat on a tombstone, I leaned against a cherub, and we discussed homosexuality in the nineteenth century. It was most fascinating, if I do say so."

"Ah… well. I knew there was a reason I wanted to send you to public school. You really do not know how to even court a lady do you?"

"Oh, but it was so perfect, sire! The way her eyes lit up with the fire of passion, the way her cheeks flushed as she expounded her arguments in length. I must admit, I quite… quite lost my senses somewhere along the way."

"Good gracious. I feel like a voyeur. Finish your story."

"I decided we needed to find a far more suitable place for a proposal, so I led her to the quietest building I could find. Following which, I dropped on my knees, declared in great lengths the beauty and grace I saw within her. Then I begged her to accept me as a lover."

"Dear lord! Dear Lord! You didn't! What… what… and I shudder to ask this… what happened next?"

"Well," Walter said rather bemusedly. "She laughed me out of the boy's room."

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The members of Hellsing have always been of a rather stable nature. Come hell water or fire, come rain or shine, they would remain firm and resolute. Even if the Black Plague came (again), even if the Great Fires broke out (again), they would be strong in the face of great adversity.

That wasn't to say that they weren't rather fiery of nature.

"She laughed my Butler out of the boy's room!" Arthur Hellsing roared.

Because they were – fiery of nature that is.

For the first time in his life, Alucard found himself rather at a lost as he watched his master rant and rave (and destroy various precious antiques of great historical value). Vampires, he could handle: that was his specialty after all. Werewolves were not a problem either. Nor were banshees, Sidhe Queens, dragons, sirens, gargoyles, demons, witches, conjurers, pagan gods, Satan or leprechauns for that matter. However, the Pride of Men was something of a mystery to him (what with having been dead for a few hundred years – and currently being in a female form of course).

"My Master, is this not most delightful? Seeing your butler scorned by a mere girl?" he ventured.

"Delightful? Delightful? My good vampire, I have half a mind to order you to set your own hound on yourself!" Arthur Hellsing shrieked. "The Butler of Hellsing has been scorned by some unknown lass! The Hellsing has been scorned! How dare that ungrateful wretch dare scorn the Hellsing family! Why, the moment Walter proposed to her, she should have been flinging herself at his feet and offering her maidenhood in sheer gratitude!"

"That went out of fashion years ago, Master. The offering of maidenhood and so forth."

"You know what? You know what, servant? There is nothing left to do but this. I cannot allow this unchristian pagan, this damned soul to trample on Hellsing's pride. Alucard, receive your orders."

"Yes, Master."

"Search and destroy. Search and destroy! Find this ungrateful wretch! Flay her skin! Rent her flesh! Break her bones! Crush her blasphemous form beneath your feet! Shoot her with blessed bullets! Lay the cross on her head! Heal her of her sins! May the Queen and God be with you, Amen!"

"Such weak prey, such trash. It does my soul bad to slay weak trash like this."

"Weak trash that scorned our Butler! Obey your orders, Servant!"

"As you command Master. I shall search and destroy. I shall find this ungrateful wretch. I shall flay her skin, rent her flesh, break her bones and crush her blasphemous form beneath my feet. I shall shoot her with blessed bullets, lay a cross on her head, and heal her of her sins. Amen."

"Amen!"

Alucard emitted a chuckle that could most aptly be described as "evil" and "cruel". Following which, he slowly sank into the deep pool of blackness around him. "Slaying shy virgins now, my lord," he chuckled (evilly and cruelly, that is). "I do so enjoy watching a Hellsing at work."

"Shy virgin?" As a cloudy sky that clears to let the sunrays beam down, as a rainbow that shines through the scattering of dew drops, Sir Arthur Hellsing's face relaxed and broke into a broad, rather deranged smile. "Of course! Of course! Of course she is shy! This is no witch! This is a shy virgin! I'm so glad I thought of that, servant!"

Alucard paused in mid-sink and mid-chuckle (which left him with a faintly ridiculous expression on his face). "Master, I thought of that point."

"That's impossible. You are dead and thus have no brain waves. You can't possibly think. But that is all rather beside the point, my dear servant" A gloved hand was waved in a dismissive fashion to show how beside the point that was. "I see how it is now. We have not one, but two miserable young people. Walter, for being scorned, and the dear Margaret Fairfield, who must be cursing her shy nature at this very moment and praying that young Walter would not despise her for her disgusting Victorian nature."

"Of course, my Master."

"What we must do now, Alucard, servant is to bring this misunderstanding to a close."

"Yes, my Master."

"Be prepared to receive your orders, servant!"

"Yes, my Master."

"Prepare a ball, the most magnificent this country shall ever see! Summon the staff! Summon an orchestra! Bring them under your order! See to the duck and the turkey! See to the lamp chops and the steak! See to the potatoes and the carrots! Change the draperies! Shine the chandeliers! Polish the floors! Invite the guests! From the Queen to the most miserly of peasants! Bring Walter C Dornez and Margaret Fairfield together in everlasting sexual bliss! May God and the Queen be with you, Amen!"

"… What? Ducks? Potatoes?"

"Oh goodness, you are most correct, my dear servant. Forget the potatoes, they are too Irish. Let us have some rice instead. A little Oriental touch, hmm? Nothing like a little exoticism to create a little eroticism I always say. Ho ho ho."

"…"

"Well? Get on to it!"

"Sir yes sir… my… Master."

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Walter C Dornez, was, as a perceptive reader would have perceived by now, rather miserable. All his life, Butler Walter C Dornez had been considered something of a Talent. He could kill vampires with a flick and flash of deadly, razor-sharp wires; he could expound on and discuss great philosophical issues on the spot in a charming British accent; he could manage the everyday organization of a huge mansion; he could do a perfect impersonation of a ghoul doing strange and disturbing things to a lamp-post. Seldom in his life had he ever encountered failure such as this.

The love of his life, and yet he could not even throw himself at her feet and kiss her divine and misshapen toes. All he could do was dust the corners of the black cabinet in Arthur Hellsing's smoking room and pine away in unrequited love.

"Margaret Lucy Fairfield, oh Margaret Lucy Fairfield," Walter C Dornez pined. "Oh to be with you, Margaret Lucy Fairfield. Oh to have you be mine. Margaret Lucy Fairfield, oh Margaret Lucy Fairfield!"

If he had been any less dignified a butler, he might have allowed a single tear to roll down his face. Being as he was a very dignified butler and a proud warrior of Hellsing (and was at the age where he was just a tad bit insecure about his masculinity), he held back his tears with much courage – all while dusting the cabinet to impeccable dustless-ness.

Having finished with the black cabinet, Walter C Dornez proceeded to lean forlornly against the window sill and gaze out into the garden longingly. "Margaret Lucy Fairfield, oh Margaret Lucy Fairfield," he continued to pine, but finding it rather repetitive, decided to settle for wistful sighs and courageously unshed tears instead.

It was at that exact moment a rag chose to drop from the ceiling and drape itself blatantly and insensitively over Walter C Dornez's head.

Blinking in surprise, Walter C Dornez pulled the blatant and insensitive rag off his head and gazed upwards, only to be met by the strange sight of Hellsing's resident pet vampire hanging from the mini-chandelier in the smoking room.

"Heavens, Alucard!" Walter C Dornez cried. "What are you doing up there?"

"Fulfilling my Master's orders," Alucard replied calmly enough, though a perceptive observer might have noticed the slight frown between his (her?) brows that gave him (her?) a mildly disgruntled look.

"Sir Hellsing's orders?" Walter C Dornez exclaimed. "He ordered you to hang from the chandelier? What did you do to him this time, my dear vampire?"

"I was not ordered to hang from the chandeliers," Alucard replied, with just the slightest hint of grumpiness in his voice. "I was ordered to shine the chandelier, and since my Master inconveniently failed to mention which chandelier, I have to shine all the chandeliers in this mansion."

"Shine the chandelier? Why on earth would he make you shine the chandelier, Alucard?"

"He's having a ball tonight."

"A ball? Heavens! Why was I not informed of this? Who's planning the dinner? The duck? The potatoes? And the guest-list? My good vampire, there are a hundred and one things to do, and you tell me the ball is tonight?"

"He doesn't want potatoes. Too Irish. He wants rice."

"Rice?" Walter C Dornez's face darkened. "Answer me truthfully, Alucard. Who is Sir Hellsing trying to seduce this time?"

"Seduce?"

"Oh don't pretend you do not know what I am talking about, Vampire. That evil, deranged smile does not put me off. Every time Sir Hellsling orders the preparation of something Oriental, he is trying to seduce some poor, hapless woman. He believes exoticism creates eroticism, which is, I have to admit, somewhat true, if the sounds I heard in his room after the Oriental-styled masquerade he held last month are anything to go by. This ball is an elaborate stage of seduction, and I must know who he intends to seduce this time. If it is someone who could create trouble, like, I don't know, the wife of a powerful noble, then by all that is good and beautiful, we have to stop him!"

Alucard blinked and tried to prevent his skirt from falling over his face (he had never thought that wearing a skirt while cleaning the chandeliers would be such an inconvenience). "I do not think my Master intends to do any seducing tonight, Butler."

"Oh, bull, Vampire!"

Alucard blinked again – then shrugged. His Master never said he had to keep the purpose of a ball a secret. "He invited Margaret Fairfield."

"He intends to seduce Margaret Lucy Fairfield? Oh, that monster! I shall kill him! Out of my way vampire!"

"That was not what I meant, Butler. Stop slashing my arm to pieces. I have orders to shine the floor too, and blood, I have discovered, is not easy to remove."

"Oh, now you know, Vampire. Enough about removing bloodstains though. You have better provide your master with a good explanation or I am going to end the Hellsing line this very moment."

"My orders," Alucard said with a deranged smile, "are to ensure the everlasting sexual bliss of you and Margaret Lucy Fairfield."

"Oh, I see. How kind of… what?"

"Yes, Butler, you did not misunderstand me."

"The purpose of this ball is to bring my Margaret and me together?"

"Yes, Butler."

"Me and Margaret together, and just to clarify, in everlasting sexual bliss?"

"Yes, Butler. "Sexual bliss" was explicitly stated."

"Oh… well…" Walter C Dornez blinked and pondered the thoughts of adolescence. Then an expression of great distress spread itself over his face. "Heavens! I have nothing… nothing dashing to wear!" he cried. "Nothing with flair and charm! My goodness, it's even worse than that! My wardrobe is bloody! Look at my tie, Vampire! It has drops of blood on it! And all my vests, every single one of them have blood stains! Good gracious! Even my underwear has blood on it! This is a disaster!"

"I can help you create clothing from my blood…"

"Oh, don't be silly! I'm not going to risk you making the illusionary clothing disappear at the wrong moment!"

"I am over 500 years old, Butler. I know when the right timing is… alright, I will admit I deserve this decapitation."

Walter C Dornez pulled himself up to his full height and drew in a deep breath. "Ignore the chandelier, Vampire!" he snarled. "Leave those to the maids. We are wasting time here! Floors need to be polished, decorations need to be put up, the duck needs to be cooked, the plants need to be watered, and oh yes, the bathrooms need to be cleaned! Come with me! We have things to do!"

"Very well, Butler. At this moment, I thoroughly, absolutely detest chandeliers. Just give me a moment to reattach my head."

"Good!" Walter C Dornez cried then smiled the smile of cats pouncing on mice. "This ball is going to be perfect! And by the heavens above, I will have everlasting sexual bliss with Margaret Lucy Fairfield if I have to cook all the rice in Southeast Asia!"

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